Nobody is Normal
by Imadra Blue
Summary: Ichigo and Orihime, after the deluge. Het.
1. Chapter 1

**Pairing:** Ichigo/Orihime  
**Disclaimer:** _Bleach_ is the property of Tite Kubo. No copyright infringement is intended.  
**Author's Note: **Post-Aizen storyline that will no doubt be considered AU by the time Tite Kubo wraps that arc up. All chapters will be varying lengths between 1000 and 2000 words. Written for Stages of Love on LJ, so to honor their posting schedule, this will post once a week, on Tuesday or Wednesday. Since I will be out of the country throughout July, the last two chapters will post in the last week of June (Sunday and Friday).

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_**Nobody is Normal**_** – Chapter I: Orihime**

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Once Aizen was defeated, Orihime expected everything would return to normal—except that it hadn't. Rukia returned to Soul Society as the Lieutenant of Division Thirteen, leaving a hole in everyone's heart. Not even Tatsuki could fill that hole.

Ichigo seemed to miss Rukia as well. At least, Orihime had no other explanation for why he showed up at her door one afternoon, carrying a grocery bag. He looked strange in his school uniform now, but when he smiled, her face heated, as always.

"I'm making you dinner," Ichigo announced and pushed his way inside. "Tatsuki said you would eat red beans and fish head soup if someone didn't come over."

"But I like red beans and fish head soup." Orihime closed the door and stared at Ichigo. He walked straight to her kitchen and unpacked the groceries. He brightened the white room with his orange hair and warm eyes—eyes that were thankfully brown. Orihime had accepted the hollow inside of Ichigo, but she would never like it.

"I hope you like Italian," he said, setting a pot of water to boil. "I've been in the mood for it."

"I like Italian. You know how to cook?"

"Of course. Until Yuzu got old enough, I used to do all the cooking at our house. I'm pretty good at it."

Orihime smiled at the idea of Ichigo, one of the most powerful warriors alive or dead, cooking dinner for his family. "Really? What's your secret?"

Ichigo proudly held out a jar of marinara sauce. "Knowing which brand tastes best and then adding to it." He opened the jar and plopped the contents into a saucepan. "Building your own sauce is too much trouble."

Orihime giggled. "So, you're a lazy cook."

"But a good lazy cook." Ichigo added some oil and seasoning, then stirred the sauce. He gave her a meatball seasoning package with express orders to not deviate the directions. Orihime snuck in some red bean powder when he wasn't looking, but otherwise did as he asked. The meat felt cold and gunky as she mashed it and rolled it into balls.

"Does your hearing in one of your ears ever suddenly go out, and all you hear is this high-pitched hum?" she asked after a long silence.

Ichigo stared at her with his mouth slightly open.

Orihime took this as an affirmation. "See, I think that's because aliens are downloading thoughts into our head. At least half of our thoughts were programmed into us by tall red men."

Ichigo blinked. "I thought they were little green men?"

"No, those are the ones who steal socks for their scientific experiments."

Ichigo laughed long and loud. "See, this is why I love you, Inoue. You don't think like anyone else."

"But all my thoughts are programmed by the aliens!" Orihime flapped her hands to make her point. Bits of the ground meat mixture splattered onto the counter. "I don't actually think anything on my own."

As Ichigo stared at her, he stirred the sauce too fast, and some of it splashed up onto his white shirt, staining it red. It looked enough like blood that Orihime had to look away. "Do you really believe that?" he asked.

"Sometimes." Orihime smiled and wiped the counter clean. A stray lock of orange hair hung in front of Ichigo's eyes—his hair had grown long over the winter. "They can't program our feelings, though. Those are all ours."

"Good."

Orihime put the meatballs to bake and then scrubbed her hands clean. As the water poured over her skin, she realized that Ichigo had said he loved her, even if he hadn't meant it. She watched him cover the saucepan and lower the heat to a simmer.

Ichigo belonged there, she thought, in her kitchen, standing beside her. He smelled like marinara sauce and garlic, like sunshine and graveyards, like strawberries and blood. He smelled like the home that Orihime had not had since her brother died.

"You miss Rukia, don't you?" she whispered. "That's why you're here."

Ichigo froze. "Of course I miss Rukia. But that's not why I'm here."

Orihime hung her head. "I'm sorry. It's none of my business." She balled her fists up. The words would not stop. They poured out of her, as if she were a faucet turned on after years of neglect. "I didn't mean to, but I—I hate that she's gone. Sometimes I hate Soul Society for taking her away—and sometimes I'm grateful she's gone, because you're here."

Ichigo only stared at her. Shame made Orihime's face feel hot. She had revealed what a terrible person she was. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't think these things." She twisted her shirt. "I love Rukia as much as I love Tatsuki. I really do. Please don't think that I don't."

Orihime's eyes stung with tears, but it was Ichigo's fingers that brushed her cheeks dry. Did Ichigo understand what it was like to love someone to the core of his heart, yet envy them at the same time?

Ichigo smiled down at her. "Don't be sorry for being human. Don't ever be sorry for that. Because that's what we are, you and me. I'm a substitute Shinigami, and you're, well, you, but we were born human, and we'll die human. I don't think badly of you, Orihime. I'm just happy to know that you're not perfect—just like me. And that's a feeling, so no alien programmed me to think that way."

Everything inside Orihime swelled to the point of nearly bursting through her eyes, her fingertips, her toes. She opened her mouth to let it out, then closed it. There were so many things she wanted to tell Ichigo, but she didn't have the words. Not yet. Instead, she stared at the stove. "The water's boiling."

Ichigo spun around. "I better start the noodles!"

Orihime smiled as Ichigo finished dinner. She set the table and wondered if she would ever be brave enough to confess her feelings.

_To be continued…_


	2. Chapter 2

**Written For:** Stages of Love. Theme: Five Domestic Behaviors – Cleaning.

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_**Nobody is Normal**_** – Chapter II: Ichigo**

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"Are you sure you need this much soul candy?" Urahara asked as he put a few dispensers into Ichigo's bag.

"The last time I used Kon, he tried to cuddle Yuzu's breasts. With my body," Ichigo said through gritted teeth. "And I am the Shinigami assigned to this area."

"Oh? Yuzu hit puberty?" Urahara said, smiling from beneath his mop of blond hair. The shadows of his bucket hat obscured his eyes. Ichigo would never get used to that, not that seeing Urahara's eyes made him any more understandable.

"I don't want to talk about it. My jaw hurts from where my father punched me, and my sisters still won't speak to me. I had to actually show them Kon to prove it wasn't me, just so I wouldn't get thrown out."

"I thought you said you didn't want to talk about it."

Ichigo gritted his teeth. One of the doors behind Urahara slid open, and Tōsen stepped out. It still made Ichigo nervous to look at him, but Tōsen gave no sign of having noticed Ichigo. He dusted the shelves, as silent as he had been since the battle with Aizen.

"Why do you keep him around?" Ichigo asked. "I mean, I know your argument was that he's seen the error of his ways or whatever, but really? He's blind. What use is he to you?"

"He's blind, not deaf, you know," Urahara said. Tōsen turned his blindfolded face towards Ichigo, the shadows making him seem darker than usual. He turned around again and disappeared through the door he had entered from.

Ichigo felt sort of guilty, though he did not know why. Tōsen had helped Aizen wreak a lot of destruction, but he had also fought at Soul Society's side when they needed him most. Tōsen's motivations were still a mystery, but Urahara seemed to understand them. Urahara seemed to understand everything.

"In answer to your question, he may not see the dust, but he knows the objects are there. And he's very punctual. Since Renji is back in Soul Society, I need someone to clean the shop for me."

"Heh." Ichigo shoved the bag of soul candy in his pocket and handed Urahara some money. "Any word from him? Or Rukia?"

"Oh, yes." Urahara stood and fetched two envelopes from a table. He handed them to Ichigo.

Ichigo tore them open. Renji's letter had surprisingly nice handwriting and described how nice things were without Ichigo making trouble in Soul Society—in other words, he was bored. Ichigo grinned and turned to Rukia's letter. She had sent him numerous drawings diagramming her new duties as Division Thirteen's lieutenant. The art was, as ever, awful. And Ichigo had no idea what Chappy had to do with any of it.

"You seem happy."

Ichigo looked up at Urahara. "Yeah, well, things aren't the same without them." He glanced at Rukia's letter again, then shoved it into his pocket with Renji's. "Feels weird being home, like everything is normal—or as normal as it's going to get, considering."

"So it feels weird being normal?"

Ichigo shrugged. "Yeah."

Urahara smiled. "You'll adjust."

"I guess." Ichigo scuffed his shoe along the floor. He figured he might as well ask what was on his mind. "So, uh, I was thinking."

"How terrible for you."

Ichigo glared. "I'm not about to ask my idiot father this, but do you know how to ask a girl out?"

Urahara popped out his fan and waved it at himself. "Oh, dear, such a personal question. Why would you think I knew such a thing?"

"You're like three million years old, and Yoruichi-san visits you regularly. I'm guessing it isn't for quality of your milk."

"What a delightful double entendre. If only you could see the things that passed through my mind at that statement."

Ichigo's face heated. "Well, do you?"

Urahara closed his fan and tapped Ichigo on the nose. "I might. What's it to you?"

Ichigo crossed his arms. "I'm nearly seventeen now. Thought I should ask some girl out."

"Truly a ripe old age." Urahara's eyes became visible and glittered. "Anyone in particular? Like Rukia?"

"What's the point? She's gone now."

"She is. Why didn't you tell her that you liked her?"

Ichigo rubbed the back of his head. He did not realize that asking Urahara for advice would involve so many questions. "I'm not sure if I did. It's complicated."

"And her?"

"We never talked about it."

Urahara stood up and slid on his sandals. "Talking to girls usually helps if you want to ask them out."

"I do talk to them. But I never know what to say when it comes to that." Ichigo balled his fists. "It's easier to fight for them."

"Well, who would you like to ask out? It helps to personalize one's courting."

Ichigo stared at the floor. The first name that popped into his head seemed like a bad idea—she probably already had her eye on someone else. He tried to think of other names, but his mind blanked. "Um. I don't know."

"Well, first, you really should decide who you like before attempting to ask girls out. Trust me, this sort of thing helps."

"Yeah, I guess."

Urahara stared at Ichigo for a long time, then turned his face. He lifted his hat a bit and glanced around. "Hmm, where has Wonderweiss got off to?"

"Wonderweiss? What does Wonderweiss have to do with anything? I'm talking to you about something important. Besides, Tōsen may be able to clean, but what's the sense in keeping—"

"Oh, dear, I think he ran away again. His reiatsu seems to be near Orihime." Urahara glanced at Ichigo and smiled. His eyes gleamed into the weak light of his shop. "Do you mind fetching him for me? He's unpredictable, and who knows what he might do."

Ichigo's eyes widened, and his heart skipped a beat. "Wait, he's dangerous? And you let him stay here? He could hurt Inoue!" He turned and dashed out of the shop.

By the time he reached Orihime's apartment, Ichigo had a stitch in his side. He bent forward and gasped for air, then raced up the stairs. He did not hear any screams or see any telltale signs of Orihime being attacked, and he hoped he was not too late. He rammed his shoulder into the door and burst in. "Inoue!"

Orihime froze and stared at him with a broom in her hand. "Kurosaki-kun? Why did you just break down my door?

Ichigo gaped and glanced around. Wonderweiss sat at Orihime's table, munching on fish heads and staring at Ichigo with an expression that seemed halfway between boredom and curiosity. Orihime wore a dirty dress, and her hair was tied back with a bandana. She brandished a feather duster at Ichigo. "At least finish the cleaning while I fix the door."

"Aah?" Wonderweiss asked, his sharp teeth crunching bones with ease.

"No, I didn't invite him over," Orihime said. She helped Ichigo up. "What brings you here, Kurosaki-kun? You seem upset."

"Urahara said Wonderweiss escaped! He said there was no telling what he would do! I thought you were in danger!"

"Well, that's very sweet of you, but you can see I'm in no danger." Orihime smiled over at Wonderweiss. "I cannot say the same for my dust bunnies, however. When I swept them all out from under the bed, he ate them. With relish."

"Aah, aah," Wonderweiss said.

Orihime eyed him. "Oh, no, he's really very nice. I'm sure he didn't mean to break the door."

"You can understand him?" Ichigo asked.

"Of course. He speaks perfect Japanese. Why wouldn't I?"

Ichigo stared at her. "He says 'Aah!' all the time. And occasionally punctuates it with 'Uuh!'"

Orihime giggled. "Don't be ridiculous. You can't understand him at all?"

"Um, no?"

"Aah." Wonderweiss gulped at a glass of milk, spilling some down his chin. He ignored the liquid dripping from his face and stared at Ichigo.

"Maybe he doesn't want you to understand him."

"What did he just say?"

"Oh, it's not polite enough to repeat." Orihime turned to her door and summoned two of her Shun Shun Rikka. They immediately set about fixing the door.

"I didn't know you could heal doors, too," Ichigo said.

Orihime smiled as the door pieced itself back together. "I can heal anything."

"Oh." Ichigo grabbed the feather duster and ran it across the shelves. His gaze wandered back to Orihime. He had always noticed her beauty, but something about her smiling as she fixed the door riveted him. No matter what he did, she never got upset with him. She had even accepted his hollow form, despite her obvious misgivings. If not for her powers, Ichigo would never have broken through Aizen's defense and been able to kill him. She was always there when he needed her. She was like midday sunshine after a morning storm.

"Aah, uuh, aah."

Orihime stepped back from her newly repaired door, barrettes gleaming. "Wonderweiss says you keep dusting the same spot. Are you all right?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah!" Ichigo moved to another spot and ripped his gaze off Orihime. "I'm fine."

Wonderweiss loped over to Orihime. He grunted at her, then smiled and walked out. Orihime started laughing.

"What's so funny?" Ichigo demanded.

"He said that he better get back home, since his job here was finished. And then he said 'So long, and thanks for all the fish.' He must be a Douglas Adams fan." Orihime bent over and laughed some more. "He's so funny!"

Ichigo had no idea what she meant, but he had not heard of Douglas Adams. He did not ask her for clarification—she might think him an idiot for not knowing. He glanced at the now dust-free shelves and put the feather duster down. "Well, now that he's gone, I better get going, too."

Orihime gave Ichigo one of those odd looks of hers, where her eyes went warm like chocolate in the sun, and Ichigo gulped. His face felt hot, and he never knew where to put his hands when Orihime looked at him like that.

"Why don't we have some red bean ice cream before you leave?"

Ichigo swallowed and rubbed his sweating palms on his pants. "Uh, yeah. Why not? You're not going to put weird things on it, right?"

"I'll serve yours plain, I promise."

"Great." Ichigo sat down at the table as Orihime disappeared into the kitchen. By Wonderweiss's seat, he saw a note. It had his name written on it in Urahara's handwriting, so he picked it up.

_You're welcome. Now that you've decided who you would like to ask out, please don't hesitate to contact me for stage two: actually asking her out._

Ichigo gaped. "How does he _do_ that?"

_To be continued…_


End file.
